


A Little Incentive

by BearlyWriting



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Forced to Watch, Hurt Dick Grayson, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Clark Kent, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29270598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyWriting/pseuds/BearlyWriting
Summary: ‘Lex smirks. One of the smooth black panels behind him slides open and two bodyguards step in, dragging a limp body between them.Bruce’s heart plummets like a stone. Because it’s Dick. It’s Dick dangling from their grasps. His head is lolling forward against his chest, only his dark hair and a little sliver of his face visible. But Bruce would recognise him anywhere.And clearly something is wrong.’Bruce needs a little incentive to agree to Lex’s most recent proposal. Lex has just the thing to persuade him.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Clark Kent, Dick Grayson/Lex Luthor
Comments: 18
Kudos: 136





	A Little Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> Please make sure you check the tags! :)

Bruce isn’t sure where everything went wrong. One moment, he and Tim are sitting in the uncomfortably straight-backed chairs opposite Lex Luthor’s desk, discussing a dry business deal. The next, four burly men have appeared out of nowhere, guns pointed straight at both of their heads.

There’s nothing that raises Bruce Wayne’s blood pressure quite like a gun being pointed at one of his kids. Especially if they’re in their civilian personas. Because Batman and Red Robin might be able to take the guns out in a matter of seconds, but Bruce and Tim Wayne can’t. Especially not once they’ve each been cuffed to the arms of the chairs they’re sitting on.

Bruce tests the cuffs as subtly as he can, disguising it as simply tugging ineffectually at the restraints. Based on that brief inspection, he can already tell they’re seriously heavy-duty. Even Batman probably wouldn’t be able to get out of them. Especially with the guns still aimed at their heads.

“What the hell is this, Lex?” He growls, trying to temper his anger to mere bemusement. Bruce Wayne doesn’t know of Luthor’s predilection for villainism after all. Still, he doesn’t entirely hide the sharp edge of his voice. The man has a gun pointed at his son after all.

“I’m sorry for the theatrics,” Lex says, smooth and unruffled. There’s no indication of the seriousness of what’s happening in his voice. They might as well still be in any normal business meeting. “It’s just a precaution, really. I have no intention of hurting one of my best business partners.”

The smile he offers then is thin and insincere. Bruce fights back the growl that wants to crawl out of his throat.

“You just want to threaten us? Lex, we have a good relationship,” which, okay, isn’t exactly the truth considering Bruce tries to make his life difficult whenever he can, “you don’t want to ruin it for whatever little scheme you’re planning.”

“It’s no scheme,” Lex says, voice tight. “Your refusal to accept my proposal for my new Gotham venture is seriously hurting my business, Wayne. I have tried again and again to persuade you, but you refuse to be moved. Why?”

Why? Because Lex Luthor’s proposed plan is a thinly veiled scheme to allow him to traffic vulnerable children and experiment on them. Sure, Bruce Wayne shouldn’t know that, so his refusal to cooperate seems to be entirely stubborn stupidity. But whether Luthor understands why or not, Bruce isn’t about to concede to him and put thousands of innocent children at risk.

“I’ve told you, Lexie, I’m just not interested. And I don’t take kindly to threats, you know. If you want to change my mind, there are better ways to go about it.”

“From where I’m standing, there isn’t.”

Bruce swallows back more anger. This is the most difficult part of his life - having to pretend he doesn’t understand situations like this, having to act stupid and clueless. Sometimes, it’s fun. When he’s cuffed to a chair with guns pointed at both him and his son, it abruptly isn’t.

“So, what? What’s your game? You say you don’t want to hurt me, but from where I’m sitting it looks an awful lot like you do.”

Lex runs a hand over his mouth and frowns at Bruce. As if _Bruce_ is the one being unreasonable here. As if he’s said something interminably foolish.

“No, I’m not going to hurt you, Wayne. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I don’t have to.”

Bruce glares. Something cold and hard has settled in his stomach. He doesn’t understand what Luthor’s game is. What is he planning on threatening Bruce with if it isn’t physical harm? Why restrain them both if his plan is simple blackmail?

“If there’s one thing that will get through to you, it’s your children.”

The ice in Bruce’s gut shatters at that, sending shards through his whole body, freezing the blood in his veins. He can’t stop himself from glancing at Tim even though he knows it’s showing his hand - as if his hand isn’t already shown, as if Luthor can mean anything else. Tim looks apprehensive but not _scared_. Is that because he genuinely isn’t worried? Or because his training has taught him how not to show it?

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lex chuckles, indulgently, “I’m not going to touch Timothy. Like I said, I have no intention of hurting my business partners.”

Bruce doesn’t let himself relax. There’s a but coming here. A dark shadow lurking under the surface. Lex wouldn’t be doing this not to hurt him. No one pulls a gun on someone without bad intentions.

Lex smirks. “You have other children though, don’t you Wayne? Your first son - Richard - he didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps? Not interested in business, huh?”

Bruce grinds his teeth together to keep from saying something he might regret. Just the mention of Dick - in a context like this - has his blood pressure rising dangerously. Dick is smart and strong and competent, but Lex Luthor is Lex Luthor. If he hurts him…

Lex smirks. One of the smooth black panels behind him slides open and two bodyguards step in, dragging a limp body between them.

Bruce’s heart plummets like a stone. Because it’s Dick. It’s Dick dangling from their grasps. His head is lolling forward against his chest, only his dark hair and a little sliver of his face visible. But Bruce would recognise him anywhere.

And clearly something is wrong. Even as Richard Wayne, Dick wouldn’t be silent and still like this. He wouldn’t just be letting these men drag him around like a sack of potatoes.

Is he injured? Drugged, maybe? Could it be head trauma?

God, Bruce hopes not. Head trauma could spell serious trouble for Dick. As if anything about this _doesn’t_ spell trouble. Bruce’s son is in Lex Luthor’s hands and Bruce and Tim are strapped to chairs with guns pointed at their heads and Lex has practically promised to hurt him. Bruce’s chest aches.

“What the hell is this, Lex?” Bruce growls, struggling to keep Batman out of his voice. “Let go of my son.”

Lex just smirks, tilting his head at the long mahogany desk in front of him - an instruction for the men holding onto Dick. They step forward and heave Dick over it. Dick puts up no resistance, sprawling limply across the wood.

Fear tightens Bruce’s chest. Where the hell is Lex going with this? What is he planning to do with Bruce’s son.

Lex steps up behind Dick and presses a hand to the small of his back. Dick finally seems to stir at that. His head rolls against the wood, then tilts up. Bruce can see the muscles of his back flex beneath his thin t-shirt. Hazy blue eyes blink up at him, Dick’s face slack with whatever Lex has subjected him to.

“What have you done to him?” Tim whispers.

“Nothing to be concerned about,” Lex tells them, as if Bruce can trust anything the man says. “Just a little sedative, to keep him easy. I don’t need him fighting me.”

Bruce’s stomach lurches. What the fuck does that mean? What is Lex planning?

“You drugged him?” Bruce asks, not bothering to keep the ice out of his voice. “Why? Why would he fight you?”

Lex runs a hand up and down Dick’s back and Bruce wants to rip it off. Wants Lex to get the hell away from his son. Technically, it’s a perfectly platonic touch, but there’s something disturbingly intimate about it. Lex doesn’t get to touch Dick like that.

“Because I’m going to do something to him that he probably won’t like.” A smile, smooth as a snake. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about that deal, Wayne?”

Bruce grinds his teeth together so hard his jaw aches. There’s dangerous intent in Lex’s eyes, but Bruce can’t cave on this. He can’t allow Lex the opportunity to ruin the lives of thousands of children.

“We aren’t interested,” Tim says, before Bruce can speak. His voice is as cold as Bruce’s had been, but surprisingly more even.

Lex shrugs. This time, when he runs his hand up Dick’s back, he tucks it beneath his shirt first, bare skin against skin. Dick makes a soft sound of protest, shifting under the touch, but he clearly doesn’t have the strength or coordination to pull away.

If Bruce had thought his heart was beating hard before, it’s nothing compared to the way his pulse is throbbing now. The evil intent of that touch is as clear as day. Still, Bruce hopes he’s wrong. Prays he’s wrong. This is Lex the business man, after all, not Lex the supervillain. _Rape_ isn’t exactly his usual wheelhouse.

At least, as far as Bruce knows. But Bruce is starting to feel like he doesn’t know much at all. Because he has no idea how they managed to get into this situation. And he has no idea how they’re going to get out of it either.

“Fine,” Lex says. There’s both humour and annoyance in his voice. “This really is no hardship.”

The hand on Dick’s back slides down, over his hips, to cup the curve of his ass. Dick jerks, making another protesting sound, sharper this time. He lifts his head again from where it had started to droop and his eyes land on Bruce. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips parted like he’s trying to work a word out of his throat.

Bruce’s blood runs cold. If there had been any doubt about what Lex is planning, it’s gone now.

“He really does have an attractive body,” Lex continues, palming over Dick’s ass like he has any right to touch him. His other hand slides back up Dick’s spine and closes around the nape of his neck. “I’ve heard he’s very...flexible.”

And Bruce knows - he knows the way some people view his son. He knows, objectively, that Dick has grown into a handsome young man. That all of the training and experience Dick has put into his fighting and acrobatics has moulded his body into something strong and fit and attractive. He knows the way some people look at him.

He hates it. But he’s never been able to stop it. All he’s ever been able to do is equip Dick with the ability to protect himself. But that clearly means nothing here.

“Lex…”

“My friends call me Lex,” Luthor says, coldly. “I don’t think you qualify.”

As if Bruce gives a fuck about whether he and the man currently molesting his son are on a first-name basis.

“This is disgustingly inappropriate, _Luthor_. I don’t know what on Earth you’re thinking, but this needs to stop.” Bruce tugs on his cuffs again, his heart in his mouth. “If you let us all go, I may consider not pressing charges for drugging and threatening my son.”

Lex laughs, a cold, utterly humourless sound. “Do you think I’m concerned by things like that? I could ruin you, Wayne. I will ruin you.”

He tugs at the collar of Dick’s shirt hard enough that it tears, baring the skin of Dick’s shoulder and upper back. Bruce flinches at the sound.

“What?” Dick slurs. His hands scrabble at the wood of the desk as he attempts to push himself back up.

Lex pushes him back down as easily as if he were an unruly puppy.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tim asks in a strained voice. “Stop touching him.”

It strikes Bruce then, exactly what is happening. Lex Luthor has drugged one of Bruce’s sons and is holding a gun on the other and he’s threatening to _rape_ Dick, right here in front of both his dad and his sixteen-year-old brother.

Bile burns at the back of Bruce’s throat. A sort of hopeless fury rises in his chest, choking him. This can’t be happening. It can’t.

And, yet, Bruce’s internal protestations don’t stop Lex from shifting one hand to Dick’s waist and opening his trousers.

That seems to wake Dick up more than anything else. “Stop,” he gasps, kicking out clumsily with one leg. “Who-“

Lex pins him easily, rolling his hips forward to press Dick back against the desk. “I suppose I could stop, if you want to reconsider my deal.”

Even as he says it, he finishes unbuckling Dick’s belt and tugs his trousers down over his thighs.

“Fine,” Bruce snaps. Because he can’t let this happen. He can’t. He’ll make the deal with Lex and they’ll figure something out afterwards.

He can’t let this happen to Dick.

“Fine. I’ll do the deal with you. Jesus, it isn’t worth this.”

Lex grins, sharp and mean, but he steps away from Dick. The relief that surges through Bruce’s chest almost chokes him. Thank god. Thank god Lex has stopped touching him. Bruce doesn’t think he could stand another minute of those hands on Dick.

From his seat beside him, Tim throws Bruce a sharp look. He doesn’t protest though, and when Bruce meets his eyes, his face is very pale. He’s scared, Bruce realises. He’s as scared as Bruce is.

Lex rummages in one of the drawers of the desk Dick is slumped over. Free from Lex’s touch, Dick tries to push himself up again. For a second, it looks as though he might be about to stand, before his arms start trembling violently and he crashes to the floor instead. Bruce winces. He wants so badly to reach out to his son but the cuffs on his wrists draw him short.

“Here,” Lex says, stepping around the desk with a sheaf of paper in one hand and a fancy pen in the other. “All you have to do is sign this and you’re all free to go.”

“How am I supposed to-'' Bruce starts, but he cuts off when the two bodyguards step towards him. One of them takes the paper and pen from Lex. The other works one of Bruce’s cuffs free.

Bruce flexes his arm, wondering if he could manage to free himself and get out of this situation one-handed. Probably not. The guns are a big enough deterrent alone, but there’s no way Bruce could free himself and Tim and rescue Dick with so many men in the room, all of their attention focussed on him.

So he scowls but scribbles his signature obediently where the guard points. Once he’s done, they recuff his arm, then repeat the same process with Tim.

“There,” Tim says, cooly, as the guard fastens the cuff back around his thin wrist. “We’ve signed it. You can let us go.”

In the time it had taken them to finish signing the deal, Lex had stepped back up behind Dick and dragged him back over the desk. His hands are stroking lightly up and down Dick’s sides, rising and falling as the ribs beneath them heave with every panicked breath. Bruce can feel his already dark expression souring.

“Stop touching him,” he growls. “We’ve done exactly what you wanted.”

Lex smirks. “You have. Thank you, Wayne. This project really means a lot to me.”

One hand curls in Dick’s hair and yanks his head up. Dick makes a slurred noise of protest, blue eyes blinking rapidly, a grimace twisting across his face at the strain. This time, he seems to actually see Bruce, and Bruce watches as confusion blooms in his hazy eyes.

“B?” He asks, sounding small and lost, and every bone in Bruce’s body aches with the need to go to him, to pull him into his arms and protect him.

“That’s right, darling,” Lex says, in a disturbingly sweet voice. “Your daddy just made me a very happy man, and you’re going to make me even happier. Aren’t you?”

Dick shakes his head as best he can with the grip Lex still has on his hair. His brow is furrowed, angry little wrinkles deepening across his forehead. Bruce shakes his head too. What the fuck is Lex playing at?

“We did what you asked,” Tim snaps. There’s a clink of metal as he strains against his cuffs. His voice is breathless with fear.

Lex ignores him. The hand not tangled in Dick’s hair moves to his own waist, working quickly at his fly.

Bruce tastes acid. His heart leaps up his throat and threatens to choke him.

“Come on, Luthor,” he manages, squeezing the words past the obstruction. “You aren’t the type of man to renege on a deal. _Please_ , don’t do this.”

“You have no idea what type of man I am,” Lex says.

With Dick and the desk between them, Bruce can’t see what Luthor’s hand is doing very well. But he can hear the sound of a zipper dragging down. Then Lex leans forward and shoves two fingers into Dick’s slack mouth.

Dick chokes. He tries to pull away instinctively, but Lex’s hand in his hair holds him still. So he bites. Bruce isn’t surprised - Dick has never been one to take anything lying down and right now he’s confused. He can’t understand the severity of the situation.

And as much as he dreads whatever the retaliation will be, Bruce can’t deny the vicious bloom of satisfaction in his chest.

Lex snarls, ripping his fingers out of Dick’s mouth, and uses his grip to slam Dick’s face into the desk. Dick hits it with a sharp crack that Bruce feels deep in his gut and a low, pained moan.

“If you don’t want my kindness, we can do this the hard way.”

Lex spits on his palm, then reaches down to fist his own cock. Bruce can hear the slick sound of it and it turns his stomach violently.

“Luthor, please,” Bruce begs, because his pride means absolutely nothing here. “What do you want from me? We’ll do anything.”

“Anything,” Tim echoes, weakly. “Just please don’t touch him.”

“There’s nothing else I want from you,” Lex says.

Terror constricts Bruce’s throat tight enough that he can barely breath. His pulse is pounding in his head. If he doesn’t do something now, his chance to save Dick from this will be gone forever.

“Superman,” he shouts, desperately. “Superman, help.”

Both Tim and Dick flinch at the sudden volume. Bruce doesn’t care. He’ll shout until his voice is hoarse if it means this doesn’t happen.

Lex just laughs. “Scream for Superman all you want, Wayne. He can’t hear you in here. This whole place is lined with lead.”

The last shred of hope Bruce had cradled in his chest gutters and shrinks. Dick, reacting to the shout, or the pain, or maybe just sobering up a little, suddenly jerks upright, tossing his head back in an attempt to smack his skull into Luthor’s nose.

It glances off of Luthor’s jaw. His head snaps back, but Bruce can tell that the angle was bad - that it can’t have truly hurt Lex. 

“Get off,” Dick snarls.

Luthor fists one hand in his hair and slams his head back into the desk. With his other hand, he grips Dick’s hip, then, without any other warning, he thrusts forward.

Dick screams, a sharp, ragged sound of pain that almost entirely drowns out Tim’s shouted “ _No_ ,” and the horrible, choked noise that comes out of Bruce’s throat. Lex moans, long and exaggerated as he jerks back and thrusts in again. He’s playing it up for them, Bruce knows, but the pleasure is real.

Lex is enjoying this. Enjoying raping Bruce’s son whilst he watches, helplessly. It’s happened. It’s happening. There’s no coming back from this now. Whatever happens now, Bruce will never change the fact that Dick has had to suffer this.

Lex bends low over Dick, pinning him beneath him even as Dick writhes and archs, fighting against the agony of Lex forcing his way inside of him. Lex drags his head up again and Bruce’s breath catches at the pain on Dick’s face, the tears welling in his eyes and spilling over his cheeks.

The image sears itself into his brain, an agonising brand across his memory. Bruce will remember this for the rest of his fucking life. He’ll see it whenever he closes his eyes. There’s no way Bruce will ever sleep soundly again.

“Dad,” Dick chokes, when those hazy blue eyes land on Bruce, and Bruce’s heart makes a valiant attempt to leap right out of his mouth. “Help, B, _please_.”

Those words tear through him like shrapnel. Before he even realises what he’s doing, Bruce has thrown himself against the cuffs restraining him with enough force that the chair creaks protestingly beneath him. 

“Luthor,” he roars, loud enough that Dick flinches again, “stop!”

Luthor just laughs. Dick makes a soft, hurt sound, more tears dripping over his cheeks. Another fissure cracks its way across Bruce’s heart.

“Please,” Dick begs, strangled with pain and fear. “Please, please, _please_.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce says, helplessly, although this is so far away from okay that they aren’t even on the same continent. “You’ll be okay, Dickie. We’ll get out of this. I’m here.”

Not that Bruce being here means anything. He can’t seem to stop this from happening after all. What use is he, if he can’t even stop his son from being _raped_?

Beside him, Bruce can hear Tim crying quietly. Dick must hear it too, because his eyes flicker to his younger brother and he makes another soft, hurt sound.

“Don’t look,” Dick chokes out. “Don’t look, Timmy.”

Bruce can’t tear his eyes away from his son long enough to see if Tim is complying with that desperate plea. Dick might not want his little brother watching, but Bruce doesn’t deserve to be divorced from this. His son is hurting and it’s all his fault. The least he can do is be present for his punishment.

God, how he wishes Luthor had only punished _him_. Dick - sweet, kind, loving _Dick_ \- doesn’t deserve this. Nobody deserves this.

Luthor leans low over Dick, mouthing at his neck. Dick turns his head away, weakly. When he shuts his eyes, more tears spill over his cheeks. Luthor bites, catching Dick’s skin between his teeth and Dick lets out a horrible little choking sound before sinking his own teeth into his lip to silence himself.

Bruce’s heart hurts.

He has no idea how long it lasts. His whole world is narrowed down to his eldest son, bent over Luthor’s desk, the man in question pinning him down, moaning in his ear. Beside him, Tim is still crying, still quiet, hitching little breaths and hiccuping sobs that Bruce almost can’t hear over the sound of flesh-on-flesh and the noises both Lex and Dick are making.

The crash of glass is almost ear-splitting in comparison. Bruce jumps, rattling the cuffs around his wrists. His eyes snap to Superman where he’s crouching on the carpet of Lex’s office, apparently having just launched himself through the window.

“Lex,” Superman says, loud and commanding, straightening from his crouch. “I-“

Bruce can tell the moment he realises what’s happening. He freezes, mouth agape, his eyes fixed on the awful tableau in front of him. Everyone else in the room is just as still. Lex is still pressed flush against Dick, although he’s lifted his head, staring back at Clark with almost as much shock.

There’s a blur of movement, then Lex is suddenly on the other side of the room, sprawled on the floor against the wall. Superman stands over him, glaring. What Bruce can see of his face is twisted with fury. He bends down and closes one fist around Luthor’s shirt and drags him up, slamming him hard into the wall. Lex makes a soft noise of pain.

Bruce wants to hear him scream.

Except, there’s a soft thump as Dick tries to push himself up and slides to the floor instead. A whimper.

“What the hell have you done, Luthor?” Superman asks, in a voice that Bruce has never heard from him before.

“Superman,” Bruce almost shouts. “My son.”

Superman seems to startle, as if just realising Bruce is there. He blinks at him for a second, before his gaze snaps to Dick. His whole face crumples. Then he slams Lex hard into the wall again. Luthor crumples like a sack of potatoes, landing in a pitiful heap on the floor.

The guards, who’d seemed as frozen in shock as everyone else, come alive. The one with their gun pointed at Bruce swings it up, firing off a shot that almost deafens Bruce. It crumples harmlessly against Superman’s chest.

It only takes a moment for Superman to knock the guards out. Then, finally, he’s crouching by Dick, his face soft with pity and horror. Gently, he wraps an arm around Dick and pulls him to his knees.

“Superman?” Dick asks, blinking up at him through his tears.

“I’m here,” Superman says, softly.

Bruce is suddenly struck by the knowledge that Dick had sought Clark out, after he’d left home. That the name Nightwing had come from Clark. That when Dick had been trying to divorce himself from the Bat - distance himself from Bruce - he’d chosen a name that had tied him to Superman instead - to Clark. 

“I’ve got you.”

Bruce’s arms ache to be in Clark’s place. To be holding his son gently against his chest and murmuring reassurances. But he’s so grateful that Superman is here. That someone had saved Dick. That he _is_ being held carefully in protective arms rather than still trapped under Lex.

Dick just sobs, curling up in Superman’s arms, tucking his face against his chest and clinging to the clasp of his cape with one trembling hand. Clark holds him close with one arm, with the other, he carefully tugs Dick’s trousers back up over his hips. Then he wraps his cape around the trembling figure in his arms and stands, keeping him tucked under his chin.

He casts a mournful glance at Bruce. “I’ll take him back to Gotham, Mr. Wayne. Then I’ll return to get you free.”

Then both he and Dick are gone, only a slight breeze blowing through the smashed apart window indicating Clark was even here.

Bruce slumps. Beside him, he can hear Tim shuffling about, trying to get out of the cuffs. Even though the guards and Lex are unconscious, Bruce doesn’t bother trying to escape his. Clark will be back soon and Bruce...he doesn’t have the energy. He doesn’t have the brain capacity to do anything but sit there, staring at the desk his son had been raped over, and wait for the man who’d saved him to return.

Relief and horror are mingling strangely in Bruce’s gut. It’s over. Lex can’t hurt Dick anymore. And yet, he had done. Bruce had failed so terribly. He’d let him...he’d let that monster do that to Dick.

“Bruce,” Tim says, softly, interrupting Bruce’s morbid internal monologue.

Whatever he was about to say, though, is cut off by the return of Superman, landing lightly in front of Tim. He reaches over and snaps both cuffs off with ease, then helps Tim to his feet.

“I took Dick back to the manor,” Superman says, as he moves over to Bruce and snaps his cuffs off just as easily. “I can...I can take him to a hospital if he wants, but I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you and Tim here that long.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything to that. Just rubs at his wrists where the cuffs that had held him immobile whilst his son was raped - the cuffs that Superman had been able to break in less than a second - had rubbed his skin raw. There’s a horrible sticky lump in his throat. Even if he had the words, he doesn’t think he could say them.

“I’ve called an ambulance for Lex and his guards too, so we should get out of here.”

Bruce nods. He wants to be back at the manor, anyway, with his son.

“Wait,” Tim says, “the contract, we should get it.”

The contract. The reason why Lex had even thought of doing that to Dick. Bruce doesn’t even want to look at it.

“Contract?” Clark asks.

“Luthor wanted us to sign it. He...he was using Dick as - as leverage.”

Clark looks a little ill. When he turns to Bruce, there’s anger on his face, too.

“What?” he asks, in a voice colder than Bruce has ever heard it. “You couldn’t just sign it? You let Dick-“

“No,” Tim snaps. “Of course we signed it! If you think we...we…”

He doesn’t finish. Just snatches the contract in trembling fingers, glaring at Clark as he does.

Behind them, Lex moans.

“Come on,” Superman says, reaching out and tugging Tim close to his side. Tim is stiff in his grip, scowling, the contract held tight in one hand. Clark reaches out for Bruce, too, and Bruce steps close, allowing him to wrap a perfunctory arm around him. “Let’s go.”

Then they’re in the air, cool wind whipping past them as Superman carries them back to Gotham. Back to Dick.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr at [bearly-writing](https://bearly-writing.tumblr.com/) if you fancy dropping by for a chat!


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